My husband has this sweater. It’s red with a black and white stripe across his chest and down his shoulders and arms. When we were dating he wore it pretty regularly. It looked good on him. Eventually, because it got a fair amount of use, it started to give out. A hole appeared by the stripe on one shoulder. It kept getting bigger and bigger. To be frank, it went from a sweater that looked good on him to a sweater than made him look like a bum. He wore it anyway, like a security blanket he couldn’t part with.

I did laundry for him on occasion during the first couple years of our marriage. One day, after the sweater came out of the dryer, I formulated a plan. I rolled it up the way you would if you were packing a suitcase, and I hid it in one of his storage tubs. I didn’t want to throw it out, I know how sentimental he can be, but I had to stop him from embarrassing me in public. It took him a while to miss it, but the day came when he asked if I had seen his red sweater.

I lied.